


Fairytales

by scarrletmoon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Old Man Merlin - Freeform, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarrletmoon/pseuds/scarrletmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Centuries after Arthur's death, Merlin meets someone who reminds him of his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairytales

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frantheanne](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=frantheanne).



> So dea-goes-a-tumblin started up a Fic War, and I got this prompt from frantheanne: 
> 
> _Years after Arthur dies, Merlin is going about his daily life, and then someone around him says something or does something so that Merlin's briefly and intensely reminded of Arthur._
> 
> I think I always end up missing the point of prompts, but I tried ;A;

It had been so long that everyone he knew was dead; times had changed so far as to be unrecognizable from the time he had been born; and he had spent the last few hundred years wandering a planet that now felt too small to contain him. The world had offered up his knowledge and he had devoured it. He found himself and Arthur in legends and fairytales, most of them inaccurate in some way after being passed down through the centuries, others only so detailed because they had survived from his original manuscripts. 

Yet there was nothing at all that he had left as proof that Arthur had ever lived. The king’s legacy had faded out of popularity. After Gwen died, Merlin had left Camelot in the hopes that escaping would ease the pain of losing his greatest friend. It was now that he regretted never taking anything with him, but he hadn’t expected to wait for so long. He had been old for an eternity. He didn’t live anymore.

Recently, he’d settled in a small village. He had lost his anger a long time ago, so that by the time he made it there, he’d left behind the bitter old man in the last town he had escaped to. Here the neighbours came to check on him, their children kicked their balls into his small backgarden and he threw them back. They called him Tomas here. He had advice to offer and they accepted him. He was never truly happy, but it was as close as he could get to it like this. 

There was a child who lived in the house across the road- a small boy, about seven years old, blonde with blue eyes. He was loud, rowdy, popular with the other children but kind when he chose to be. Having all the time in the world meant that Merlin spent a lot of time sitting outside of his house observing the world, and the children would come if he had good stories. He told them about his adventures with Arthur, about the monsters and battles they had fought. To them, they were retellings of stories they had read in borrowed books, made fascinating by the dramatics of the old man who lived in the house on Pemberton Road. 

But this boy, the one who lingered after the stories, struck up a sort of friendship with Merlin. He would ask questions about the brave king and Merlin would answer, glad of the opportunity to talk about a man he had missed for longer than any one man should ever be forced to. 

“It’s sad, though,” the boy said one day. 

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “What is?”

“You’re really good at telling these stories and you like living here. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you really smile.” 

As Merlin stared, the front door of the house across the street opened, his mother’s voice carrying over the sound of a passing car.  

“Arthur! Dinner!”


End file.
